Crossing The Line
by emospritelet
Summary: Part 2 of Extracurricular, and follow up to A Shift in Focus. Professor Gold has been daydreaming about the lovely Belle French ever since she first set foot in his classroom. He is astounded to discover that she is also attracted to him. There's just one thing standing in his way - the physics professor got to her first.
1. Crossing The Line

**A/N: I may have mentioned that I have a thing for student/teacher kinks, and apparently quite a few of my readers do as well! This fic is for shipperqueen93 and ripperblackstaff, and (obviously) for mr-r-gold.**

* * *

Professor Gold was marking assignments, which was possibly the least favourite of his daily tasks. He sighed, flicking his hair out of his eyes as he flourished his red pen and crossed firmly through the feeble attempts of one of his students to explain the decay of radioactive isotopes. The poor efforts of some in his class made his blood boil. Freshmen were the absolute worst, he found, most driven by their desire to pass the science element of their course than by any innate love of chemistry. When they weren't being driven entirely by their hormones, of course. A few applied themselves. A few had that rare combination of ability and conscientiousness that he admired. The rest of them were marking time in Chemistry 101 until they could leave his classroom for good and never return. He found himself eagerly awaiting the departure of most of them.

There were exceptions, of course. He had been blessed with a few this year, but head and shoulders above them all was Belle French, one of his third years. He sat back with a sigh as her face swam into his vision once more. Miss French was highly intelligent, and an excellent student with an inquisitive mind. She had even pulled several of her friends along with her, and their own grades had increased through her encouragement. She was the sort of student that, if he had a class filled with them, would make coming to work a joy. Unfortunately, she was also beautiful, with long, pale legs and full, red lips that he thought about kissing far too often. And she was his downfall, he was absolutely sure.

He rolled his pen between his palms as he remembered the day he had crossed the line, the line he had sworn never to cross, the line he had never thought he would cross. It had been only three days, and he hadn't seen her since. It had started so innocently, with one of California's rare showers, and Belle French being caught in the rain in a thin dress.

He was walking to the university, sheltered by his umbrella, when she hurried past, head down and arms folded protectively around the stack of books she carried.

"Miss French," he called.

Belle looked around in surprise, seemingly ready to run on again, which he could understand. These squally showers were the worst for soaking you through in a short space of time. She smiled, though, and it warmed his heart to see her face light up.

"Professor Gold," she said pleasantly, and gestured to his umbrella. "You seem to be a little better prepared than me."

"Here," he said gently, beckoning to her, and handed her the umbrella while he shrugged off his jacket. He put it around her shoulders and took back the umbrella, trying not to look at where the rain had made her dress almost transparent. She was wearing a lacy bra that showed through the white cotton, and he cursed himself for a perverted old fool. The girl wasn't even half his age. Belle shivered a little as she clutched the jacket around herself, rainwater trickling down her face and over the deep pink curve of her lower lip. She licked it off instinctively, and Gold felt a sudden hitch in his chest.

"I don't believe we have class today," he said politely, trying to take his mind off her pale beauty, as she linked her arm through his and they turned towards the university grounds. The position brought the firm swell of her breast in contact with his arm, and he tried not to flinch at the feel of it, his heart thumping at her closeness. She didn't appear to notice.

"Next class is Friday," Belle confirmed. "Although I finished the prep work you set. It wasn't too bad."

"You're always prepared, Miss French," he observed. "I trust exams went well?"

"Well enough," she agreed. "It helps when your teachers are good, of course. I feel as though I did particularly well in chemistry." She winked at him, blue eyes sparkling, and he swallowed hard.

"Well, you're a pleasure to teach," he managed, clearing his throat. She was watching him curiously as they walked, and it was making his skin feel strangely tight. His senses were suddenly magnified; he could feel the errant rain drop that occasionally got past the edge of the umbrella, the light breeze chilling him through the thin silk of his shirt, the warm press of her flesh against his upper arm. He felt a sudden stirring below his waist, and his eyes widened in horror.

"Ah – Miss French!" he stumbled. "Have you – ah – I mean – how are you enjoying the class?"

Belle's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm enjoying it very much," she said slowly. "Professor Gold, are you okay?"

Probably thinks I'm an idiotic old fool who hasn't taken his meds. Gold tried to regain control of himself, relieved when he saw the entrance to the university.

"A little tired, that's all," he said, unsure whether the lame excuse was convincing, but she nodded in understanding.

"I get that. When I was sitting my exams I was a nightmare to be around. Ruby threatened to lock herself in the bathroom until it was all over at one point." She giggled, glancing across at him, and he returned her smile. They walked on in silence for a moment, until they had passed onto the university grounds and made their way towards the library.

"Well, this is me," said Belle brightly, shrugging off his jacket and handing it back. "Thanks for being my knight in shining armour, Professor Gold. I would have caught my death. This dress isn't exactly waterproof." She looked down at herself ruefully, to where the dress was sticking to her perfect curves. Her underwear showed through clearly, crisp white against skin only a few shades warmer, and Gold swallowed hard.

"It was my pleasure," he said hoarsely, keeping his eyes on her face. She smiled at him, blushing a little. Good, she was about to leave. He could go back to his office and bang his head on the desk for an hour or two before class. Perhaps that would knock some sense into him. Better that than thinking about what she might look like if he were to take her back to his apartment and peel her out of that dress and…

"Are you sure you're okay?" Her voice pulled him back to reality. Mostly.

"Miss French, would you have dinner with me?" he blurted, and had to stop himself from gaping at her. Why the fuck had he said that? Okay, it might have been what he was thinking about, but since when did he verbalise every stupid bloody thought that passed through his head? If that started happening on a regular basis he couldn't be anywhere near her. She was staring at him, a tiny smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"Like a date?" she asked, and somehow he managed to gather his thoughts.

"Yes," he managed. "A date." He was going to hell. That was it, he was on the slippery slope down into the pits of Hades to join all the other professors that hit on their students. She was chewing her lip, looking a little uncertain, and he hated himself. Of course she wouldn't want to go out with him. He sighed, looking away.

"Forgive me, Miss French, that was highly inappropriate," he began. "I'm sorry, I should never have asked you, and…"

"Oh, no, I'd like to!" she insisted, putting a hand on his arm, her touch sending a thrill through his body. "It's just…" She looked awkward. "I've kind of started sleeping with my physics professor." She reddened.

Gold felt his mouth fall open. Rush? She was shagging Rush? How the hell had the lucky bastard managed that one? He had been convinced that Rush never even noticed the gender of anyone around him, much less wanted to get them naked. Of all the men he might have thought would be a rival for her affections, the skinny, workaholic and renowned arsehole Dr Rush hadn't even registered.

"Ah," he said bleakly, and Belle giggled.

"Don't look like that. He's really very – different – outside class. Anyway, we sort of got together the other night." She looked him up and down, still chewing her lip, as though mulling something over. "I certainly wouldn't object to dating you, Mr Gold, but I really think I ought to see if he minds first." She put her head to the side. "Would you mind?"

Gold tried to steady the thoughts that were whirling through his head.

"And if I politely suggested that I didn't like sharing, and Dr Rush could go fuck himself?" he said mildly, and Belle shook her head, looking amused. She leant in close, her breath warm on his ear, making him shiver.

"I'd tell you not to be so greedy," she whispered.

"And yet you appear to want two of us," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. She bit her lip adorably, eyes sparkling.

"If it's too weird, Mr Gold, you can always back off," she suggested, her tone teasing.

Gold sighed, tightening his knuckles on his cane.

"Very well," he said quietly. "If you can pull him away from that bloody whiteboard long enough to ask him, I'd be interested to hear his opinion on the matter."

She smiled at him, taking a step back before trotting off happily, and he watched her go, wondering what the hell he was letting himself in for.

* * *

Gold tapped his pen on the desk, frowning, as the events of three days earlier ran through his mind. He was due to see her in class that afternoon, and his stomach was doing backflips. He wondered when he'd suddenly started acting like a horny teenager, and whether he would be able to cope if she smiled at him. Or worse, blanked him completely and went back to being attentive, dedicated student. He wouldn't blame Rush for saying no, of course. After leaving Belle at the library he had briefly seen the man in the staff room, getting one of the dozen or so cups of coffee he seemed to get through during the day. Gold supposed the two of them looked somewhat alike, if you ignored the differing dress sense and the fact that Rush never seemed to shave. One of his students had even asked him, with a wide-eyed innocence that was spoiled by a cheeky grin, whether his father had ever played around in the rougher parts of Glasgow. He'd given her extra work for that little quip.

Rush had been scrawling in one of those little notebooks he carried everywhere, hair all over the place and muttering to himself. Gold had studied him over the rim of his cup, his features unshaven, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, his body verging on gaunt, and had wondered idly what Belle saw in him, besides his intelligence. Perhaps the man would just back off and stay cooped up with his whiteboards and notebooks and endless equations. He'd probably be happier.

The following day had been somewhat different. Gold had been reading his newspaper and sipping his tea when Rush entered the staff room at eight fifteen. The two men had locked eyes for a moment, and Rush had given him a long look.

"Professor Gold," he said coldly, and Gold raised an eyebrow.

"Professor Rush," he returned, allowing himself a tiny, satisfied smile.

Rush turned away, busying himself with his coffee, and Gold watched him do it. The man was wearing his usual outfit of jeans and a shirt: blue today. Gold was convinced it was the same shirt that he'd been wearing the previous day. Rush leant against the wall, sipping his coffee, long fingers curling around the cup as he surveyed Gold with a flat, almost angry expression. He once more looked as though he hadn't slept, and Gold wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't even left the university last night. He shook his head at Belle's strange choice in men, but then remembered that, of the two of them, Rush was the one who had tasted her delights. The thought made him scowl. Rush had smirked a little, as though he'd known what was going through his mind, and had left the room, coffee in hand. They hadn't spoken since then, and Rush's reaction to him had convinced Gold that he had not responded positively to Belle's request. Hardly unexpected.

Sighing, Gold turned back to his papers, wishing he had something to concentrate on other than the drivel that had been handed in by his students. His comments were becoming evermore bitingly sarcastic, and he made a mental note to take a break once he'd finished this essay. The idiot was going to fail anyway; a few more choice remarks wouldn't hurt, and may just give him the kick up the arse he needed to start doing the bloody work properly. A tap at the door barely registered as he scrawled a caustic comment in the margin of the latest sorry excuse for a submission.

"Come in," he said absently, and heard the door open and close. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Well, lucky me." Belle's voice made him look up with a start. She was smiling at him, looking exceptionally beautiful with her hair cascading over her shoulders in dark, shiny curls, a bag of books over her shoulder. She took a step towards him, dressed in a tight-fitting navy blouse with a short, flared coral skirt and matching peep-toes. The colour gave the pale skin of her legs a warmer, creamier tone, and he tried not to think about running his hands up them.

"Miss French," he said formally, and Belle's smile widened.

"Professor Gold," she returned, equally formally.

"Is there something you wanted to see me about before class?" he asked, feeling a little breathless, and she shrugged, setting her bag of books on the floor.

"That depends," she said, straightening up and looking at him with her wide blue eyes. Eyes so deep he felt he could drown in them and count himself lucky. Fuck it all, man, you're getting poetic! Get a fucking grip!

He sat up, putting his pen down.

"Depends on what?" he asked quietly, and she shot him an amused look.

"On whether you're still interested in me, of course."

Gold hesitated. He was still interested, of course he was, but a part of him couldn't help feeling that this was all some sort of dream. Either that, or a student prank.

"We spoke of Dr Rush," he said, stalling for time, and Belle bit her lip, blushing slightly.

"We did. I had a talk with him, and gave him a day or two to think about it. He was – a little surprised, shall we say?"

"And what exactly did he say?" asked Gold, sitting back in his chair.

"I believe his exact words were…" Belle made her voice deeper, attempting Rush's accent and getting it almost right. '"I have no claim on you, Miss French. If you want to shag the miserable old bastard, don't let me stand in your way."'

Gold frowned. "Hardly a ringing endorsement," he observed, and she giggled.

"I think it's about as good as you'll get. You should take it. Just know that I'm still sleeping with him, and he's okay with us – well, we'll see what happens, hmm?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief, and he ached to touch her. He leant further back in his chair, holding her gaze, and tapped his pen on the pile of papers in front of him, mulling things over.

"What exactly is your relationship with Dr Rush?" he asked then, and Belle shrugged. She looked pretty doing it, the light catching a curl of her dark hair, her full lips pouting a little.

"I don't know yet," she said. "We've had two – encounters now. He's kind of intense. I like that." She had raised her eyes to the ceiling, looking a little wistful. It caused a stab of envy in his chest, a stinging, narrow lance of pain, and his mouth thinned.

"Really?" His voice was dry, and she gave him a very level, if amused, look.

"It sounds a lot to me like you're jealous, Mr Gold," she said teasingly. "There's really no need, you know. I'm sure the three of us can work things out between us."

"Hmm." He was far from sure, personally, but if it came to the crunch, and Rush made her choose…well, he had never been one to back down from a little competition. In fact, the prospect of going toe-to-toe with a colleague, so to speak, was exhilarating. It would be nice to beat the man who used 'Mister' like an insult when talking to him. Gold had always felt that Rush considered him an inferior teacher just because he hadn't gotten around to getting his own doctorate yet. He suspected one or two others in the faculty felt the same, but none were brave enough to raise the matter.

She stood there, still and silent, her hands clasped demurely in front of her, while he tapped his pen on the desk, pondering his response. It had been a long, long time since he had let his guard down enough to be with another person in that way, and that had ended very badly indeed. On the other hand, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Perhaps what he needed was to get her out of his system. If he got to irritate Rush into the bargain, so much the better.

"Very well, Miss French," he said at last, throwing down the red pen. "It appears you have an answer for everything."

She smiled in a slow, self-satisfied way, taking a deep inward breath as she did so, and let out a sigh of contentment. He wondered whether she would make the same sound when she came. A brief thought flickered through his head, a fleeting moment of self-doubt, as he wondered how Rush rated as a lover. He pushed the thoughts aside. Assuming she could tear the man away from his work for five minutes, he imagined that the most he'd be capable of was a quick fumble in the supply cupboard. He could certainly offer the lovely Miss French more than that.

Belle watched as Professor Gold pushed back his chair, unwinding himself from it and getting to his feet, his body moving sinuously. It made her want to lick her lips. From her very first day in class she had been fascinated by him; his likeness to Professor Rush was enough to attract her, but Gold had his own, very different qualities. She enjoyed his obvious intelligence, of course, but she also loved his sarcasm, the way he shot lazy students down with a cutting remark, never once raising his voice. She loved the way he was always dressed as though he was about to attend a high-powered business meeting, and how his hair moved as he talked, his long fingers gesturing to emphasise the points he was making. He had passed near her seat one day, and she had breathed him in, the scent of his cologne making her dizzy. Ruby had stuffed a hand in her mouth to keep from laughing at Belle's expression. Belle hadn't yet told her roommate about her encounter with Dr Rush; Ruby had been away for a few days, and she was looking forward to filling her in on these new developments. Along with whatever might happen this afternoon.

Gold walked slowly around the edge of the desk, approaching her, and Belle's breath caught in her throat as he moved to within inches of her. She could smell him again, his scent spreading around her, enveloping her, pulling her in towards him. She swayed slightly on her feet, a little light-headed, and he slipped a finger underneath her chin, gently raising her head a little to face him.

"Now what?" he asked quietly, and his voice seemed to rumble through her and go straight to her core. Belle let her lips part, her breath shuddering slightly in her chest. His eyes had gone very dark, boring into her, and she was suddenly unsure whether she knew what she was doing at all. It appeared that he needed far less convincing than Rush had.

"K-kiss me," she faltered, and he smiled, a wicked little grin that made his eyes gleam and crinkle at the corners. Gently, he let his fingers slide over her cheeks, his cool hands cupping her face. He took a step closer, so that they were almost touching, and she imagined that she could feel the heat from his body. It made her belly twist with need, a dull ache deep inside her.

"So beautiful," he whispered, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Belle moaned as their lips met, his tongue gently pushing until she allowed him entrance. His mouth was soft and warm, his lips smooth, and she let her hands slide up his back as he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth, his fingers sliding into her hair and making her shiver. She pulled him close, feeling his heat at last, rubbing herself against the hard planes of his chest. He had a little more meat on him than Rush did, she reflected, but he was compact and firm. Delicious.

Gold gasped into her mouth as she pulled him against her. Her mouth was gentle and sweet, her body slender and lithe, her small breasts pushing against his chest. Her hair felt as soft as silk in his hands, and he twirled it around his fingers as he kissed her, rubbing the shiny curls with his thumbs. She was perfection: sweet, delicious perfection.

Pulling his mouth away, he began kissing down her neck, and Belle let out a throaty moan that made his cock twitch in his pants. He suckled at the white skin of her throat, his tongue swirling against her pulse point, and she dug her nails into his shoulders and pressed herself hard against him. Grinning to himself, he trailed his lips up her neck to her earlobe.

"How's that for an opening move, Miss French?" he whispered, and she pulled back from him, shaking a little.

"That was - perfectly acceptable," she said primly, but spoiled it by blushing and giggling. His grin widened, and he moved back to sit behind his desk. She followed him, sliding in front of him so that he was at eye level with her breasts. He was absolutely sure she had done it on purpose, and he kept his eyes on her face, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Perhaps we could - arrange a meeting," she suggested, raising an eyebrow. "I've kind of been acting on impulse with all this, but something tells me that you're a man who likes to plan things."

Gold kept his expression neutral. He was, to be sure, but if that meant that she thought he couldn't be spontaneous like Rush…

"_Carpe diem_, my dear," he said quietly, and reached forward, putting his hands on her legs just above the knee. She wore no stockings, her pale legs wonderfully soft and smooth. He ran his palms up them slowly, pushing her skirt with them, and Belle sucked in a breath as his fingertips reached the edge of her panties. He could feel his own breath hardening, the rise and fall of his chest quickening as the skirt was pushed up to her waist and she was exposed to him. Her panties were white lace, the warm blush of her sex showing through, and he made a tiny noise in the base of his throat, almost a growl. Hesitantly, he leaned forward, and placed a gentle kiss to her mound, breathing her in. The scent of her arousal filled his head, and he knew that if he touched her he would find wetness, that sweet nectar that his tongue was craving.

He reached up with a thumb to stroke across her panties, pressing gently against the crevice in the middle. He could feel wetness, felt her juices bloom on the pad of his thumb, and Belle let out a tiny strangled noise. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid his hands up to the waistband of her panties, and slipped his fingertips inside, drawing them down over her hips. He groaned as she was exposed to him, her skin smooth and dusky pink, the gleam of moisture escaping her folds. He let the panties fall to the floor, and she stepped out of them, giving herself more room to move. He lifted her skirt once more, tucking the edge of it into her waistband, and slowly ran his hands up her thighs until he reached her centre. Her breathing was ragged as he placed a gentle thumb on either side of her labia, softly pressing, parting her folds to expose the glistening pink pearl of her swollen clit. He leaned forwards, his heart thumping in his chest, and placed a tender kiss there, making Belle let out a tiny cry.

Releasing her from the pressure of his thumbs, Gold let his hands drop and slide up behind her, cupping her rear. He lifted her, pushing her upwards onto the desk, and Belle pushed herself up with the heels of her hands, leaning back so that she was exposed to him. Murmuring in satisfaction, he sat forward and lowered his mouth to her, the first sweep of his tongue causing her to moan and arch her back, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk. He began licking her slowly, loving the taste of her, her musk, her scent, her sweetness. She was utter perfection, everything he'd dreamed of during the long nights when she had haunted his dreams and driven him out of his mind.

Belle gasped for breath, moving against his mouth as he worked, and sank her fingers into his hair, something she'd wanted to do since the first time she had seen him. This wasn't quite what she'd had in mind when she approached Gold that afternoon; she had intended only to tell him that Rush was okay with them dating, and then see what he proposed. She had even been prepared to suggest a date herself, if he hadn't come up with anything. She had thought him to be a little old-fashioned, given his impeccable manners and dress sense, and she had presumed that she would be the one chasing him in this little game. Being spread out on her professor's desk with her skirt hiked up around her waist, while he enthusiastically ate her out, could definitely be considered one of the highlights of her week. Hell, it was one of the highlights of her year.

He had settled into a rhythm that she could feel was going to drive her wild within a fairly short space of time. His tongue was swirling around her clit, then flicking back and forth across it, sending jolts of electricity through her, making her brain want to explode. She could feel her climax building, the blood heating in her face and chest, her breath coming in pants. He slipped his hands behind her legs and hooked them up over his shoulders, which meant that she could close her thighs around the sides of his head and keep him exactly where she wanted him. He seemed to redouble his efforts at the feel of her, and she knew she wouldn't last. She felt his finger, pushing at her entrance, sliding right up inside her, deep as he could go, and it made her think of how much she wanted him, how she wanted him to bury himself within her and make her scream. How she wanted to feel him come inside her. His tongue swirled again, a second finger joining the first, and she rocked her pelvis against his mouth, increasing the friction, increasing the pace. She was so, so close that she…

Belle came, jerking up off the desk with a loud, moaning cry, and Gold felt her muscles clamp down on the fingers he had inside her, her inner thighs gripping the sides of his head. Hot fluid bathed his tongue, her sweet juices coating his lips, and he groaned in pleasure, his tongue moving in long, slow sweeps, slipping into every little crevice to catch the last fragrant drop of her bliss. She was still letting out tiny moans, her body jumping and twitching, and he felt a surge of satisfaction at being able to bring her to that state. It appeared that Dr Rush had some competition on his hands.

"Oh, God!" Belle gasped. "Oh, fuck, that was incredible!"

She released his hair, his scalp tingling pleasantly from where she had pulled at it, and pushed herself up on her elbows to look at him. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and sleepy, her lips full and red, her chest heaving. He longed to get her naked.

"What are you doing tonight, Miss French?" he asked quietly, and she smiled.

"Coming over to your place?" she suggested. He grinned briefly, sitting back, and untucked her skirt, smoothing it over her thighs.

"Well, at least let me buy you dinner first," he countered, and she nodded with a contented sigh, pushing herself upright and slipping off the desk.

She scrabbled on the floor for her panties, and he took a moment to straighten himself up, smoothing his shirt and making sure there were no questionable stains anywhere. He was covered in her, her fluids, her scent, all over his face and in his hair, and he was well aware that he needed to take care of that before he could walk into class. He also had a rather pressing problem in his pants, but he was hoping that would go away once she was out of the room. He stood up as she picked up her bag of books and smiled at him.

"I guess we have a date tonight, then," she said. "Seven-thirty at your place?"

"Seven-thirty." He kissed her, and she moaned slightly as his tongue parted her lips, his hands slipping down to cup her bottom, squeezing her. Finally she pulled back, pressing a quick kiss to the end of his nose.

"You should probably wash your face," she whispered. "You don't smell like you've been eating in the cafeteria, if you know what I'm saying."

Her smile was wicked, and he burst out laughing, stepping back from her to let her open his office door. The sight that greeted them made him frown.

Rush was leaning against the wall, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. Belle blushed as she saw him, and, after taking a quick look around to check that the corridor was empty, she tiptoed up to him and whispered something in his ear. Rush smirked, looking at Gold, who immediately bristled, insecurity suddenly rising within him. Belle put delicate fingers on Rush's cheek, turning his head to face her, and gave him a quick kiss, before smiling over her shoulder at Gold and bouncing off down the corridor. The two professors looked at one another for a moment.

"Rush," said Gold evenly, and the other man nodded.

"I was passing," he said abruptly. "As you'd left your office door unlocked, I figured you wouldn't want any of your freshmen barging in on you. Sent two of the little fuckers packing."

"Thank you." Gold's insides almost froze with horror at the thought of he and Belle being caught like that. He felt as though he should suddenly start being nicer to Rush. The other man pushed his glasses up his nose, lifting one shoulder and letting it fall.

"I see Belle got her way with you," he said, somewhat ruefully, and Gold felt a flash of triumph. Obviously that 'being nicer to Rush' thing was a work in progress.

"Indeed." He straightened the cuffs of his shirt ostentatiously. "I hope this isn't going to make things awkward for you."

Rush pushed himself away from the wall with a grimace. "No," he said shortly. "Just don't tell me what you're up to, and I can go back to pretending you don't exist."

"Likewise," said Gold, his voice cool.

"For however long it lasts," added Rush, and Gold scowled.

"A little presumptuous, aren't we? You must have caught the show, didn't you hear her?"

"I did," agreed Rush, and shot him a twisted little smile. "Once," he added, with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Only once. You might want to work on that, Mr Gold."

He winked, and set off down the corridor to his own office, whistling faintly. Gold scowled at his back. Oh yes, it was most def

* * *

**A/N: I didn't intend to have Dr Rush in this fic, but he refused to stay in his own office. Of course, this leaves plenty of scope for he and Gold trying to outdo one another, with Belle the willing recipient of their efforts.**

**No one would mind if I wrote a second chapter to this, would they?**


	2. No Way Back

**A/N: You seemed to like the first part, so I thought I should really write their date. Gold didn't get to have an orgasm yet, after all, and the poor boy worked hard. I'm a kind author...**

* * *

Belle caught her breath as she lifted her hand and pressed the buzzer for Gold's apartment, straightening the wide blue skirt of her dress. He lived in an exclusive neighbourhood, and she had felt a little out of place as she had walked through the complex. It was not far from the university, but she was pleased that she had decided to take a cab; her feet were already uncomfortable in the high heels she had chosen. She usually had no problem walking in heels, but these ones were particularly narrow, with pointed toes. The upside was that they looked fabulous. The downside was that she would probably be hobbling by the end of the evening if Gold chose to walk any great distance. Given the fact that he had a cane, she supposed that was unlikely.

There was a loud buzz, and she pushed at the door, walking into a foyer which was all dark wood and concealed lighting. An elevator stood off to the left, and Belle gave the concierge a tremulous smile as she made her way towards it. She took a moment to compose herself in the elevator, already feeling out of her depth. It had been that way in his office; she had gone in there thinking she had the upper hand, and to some extent he had taken over. Not that she minded that, but it took some getting used to. The elevator stopped all too soon, and she took a deep breath and got out, clutching her purse to her chest protectively.

Gold's apartment was number 6, and she hesitated outside the innocuous pale grey door before knocking. It was a moment before he answered, a moment in which her heart rate increased and her breath quickened, and she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. She had _never_ been this nervous on a date! She took a deep breath as the door opened, to reveal Professor Gold looking immaculate in a black suit, teamed with a dark red silk shirt and black tie. She raised her eyes to his face, meeting his eyes, and he smiled.

"Miss French," he said pleasantly. "You look stunning. Please, come in."

He held open the door, and she walked in slowly, looking around herself. The apartment was modern, its walls a cool grey, minimalist furniture and black leather couches placed before a large flat screen TV. There were also bookshelves crammed with books, Belle was pleased to see. Standing lamps gave off a muted light, and soft, classical music was playing in the background. She relaxed a little.

"You have a lovely apartment," she said awkwardly, and he smiled, watching her. He gestured towards another door.

"I took the liberty of ordering in, if you've no objection," he said, and Belle almost sagged with relief, her feet already complaining about the amount of time she had been vertical.

"Not at all." She allowed him to take her coat, his fingertips brushing her shoulders and making her shiver, and then followed him through to a dining room with a long, mahogany table and crystal light fittings. Her food was already waiting for her: a salad of red and green endive, pear, blue cheese and caramelised walnuts, and he sat across from her, smiling as she dug in with a will. It was delicious: light and fresh, the richness of the cheese complementing the bitter leaves, ripe slices of pear and the earthy sweetness of the walnuts and balsamic dressing. He poured them each a glass of very cold, very dry white wine, and Belle rolled her eyes in pleasure at the range of flavours on her tongue.

"You didn't make this, then?" she asked, and he smirked.

"This, I did, but the main course, I must confess, did not come from my hands. I trust you're not a vegetarian, Miss French?"

"I'll eat anything," she said truthfully. "By and large. I never met a food I couldn't eat, let's put it that way. What about you?"

He hesitated, and shrugged. "Well, I'm not too keen on Marmite," he admitted, and she giggled.

"That's the British Vegemite, huh? I think there's very little danger of being ambushed by that over here, Mr Gold." She grinned as she said it, and he smiled at her, his eyes gleaming in the light from the lamps. She took another mouthful of wine, letting the sharp, citrusy flavours coat her tongue. He watched her do it, his eyes suddenly intense, and she remembered the feeling of his mouth on her, his tongue tasting her, seeking out the very core of her and bringing her pleasure. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks, and sat back, pushing her plate away.

"I'm finished," she said meekly, and he stood up immediately, clearing away the empty plates and carrying them out of the room. Belle took a deep breath, wishing that Ruby was home so she could text her for a little confidence boost.

Gold soon returned, two plates in hand, from which delicious smells were emanating. Belle raised her head and sniffed deeply, making him chuckle, and she beamed as he placed the dish in front of her. A thick piece of white fish - halibut, she thought - sat atop a small amount of linguine in a light seafood broth, and her mouth watered as she picked up her fork.

"So, what's your story?" she asked, spearing a mussel. "Whereabouts in Scotland are you from?"

"Glasgow," he said. "I moved to the US twenty four years ago. It seems longer, somehow." He took a drink, watching her twirl pasta around her fork, and cut into his fish. Belle chewed and swallowed, gesturing with her fork, a glint in her eye.

"Did you know that half the university thinks you and Dr Rush are related?"

Gold frowned, not wanting to think about Rush, about the fact that there were more than two of them in this – whatever it was.

"As far as I'm aware we're not," he said, with a shrug. "Though you're not the first to comment on it. Some of my students believe that my father had a penchant for rougher types."

Belle giggled. "Yeah, I heard that rumour. A few of the girls in my class have bets on when and where he met Rush's mother. At the moment the theory is some dive bar, but occasionally it changes to a seedy hotel that charges by the hour." She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling, and Gold snorted with amusement.

"The thing is, they could easily be right," he admitted. "My father worked away from home a lot, and my parents split up when I was very young. For all I know he was shagging half of Scotland."

Belle took a drink, shrugging. "Well, if it's true, I say lucky for me." She grinned at him, and he returned her smile, although right at this moment in time he was wishing that Rush would get sucked into one of his fucking black holes. He pushed the other man from his mind. This was _his_ time, and he was determined to make the most of it.

There was little conversation as they ate, and Belle forgot to be nervous as she dug into the food. The portion was small, but rich, and she was pleasantly satisfied when she had finished.

"That was a wonderful dinner," she said warmly, and he smiled at her, taking his last forkful. Belle stretched and sighed.

"I'm really hoping we can leave dessert until later," she added, and his eyebrow quirked with interest.

"As you wish, Miss French," he said quietly, and she gave him a level look.

"You can call me Belle," she said. "You spread me out on your desk and went down on me. I'm pretty sure that first name terms are a given in that situation."

He chuckled deeply, taking a swig of wine, and she raised an eyebrow at him, dangling her almost-empty glass between thumb and forefinger.

"So? What's your name? Are you going to make me guess?"

He eyed her steadily, setting his glass down.

"No," he said abruptly. "You never would, anyway. You can call me Rum."

"Unusual. Okay," she nodded. "Were you conceived after a Cuba Libre bender, or something?"

Gold laughed briefly, getting up to clear away the plates. "I think not. It's short for Rumford. A family name." He grimaced, clearly not happy about the fact, and Belle sat back in her chair, running her eyes over him as she finished her wine.

"It suits you," she said eventually. "It's kind of old-fashioned, but it's uncommon, too."

He grinned, raising his glass a little. "Well, I suppose that's rather like me."

She smiled, meeting his gaze and holding it. "I like it. I kind of like calling you Gold, though. Professor Gold if I'm feeling a little kinky."

He watched her, his fingers gently stroking the stem of his wineglass, and she felt a shiver go through her as she imagined how it might feel to have him run his hands over the naked skin of her back, of her breasts. She took another drink, draining her glass, and he reached for the bottle to offer her another. Belle shook her head.

"No, thank you, I'm fine." She hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject of going to bed with him. She found that the thought excited her, far more than she had anticipated. There was a tug of need deep in her belly, a pulling and tightening as her body signalled its desire for him. He was still watching her, his eyes dark and glittering, and she felt her lips part, wanting to kiss him.

"May I offer you tea?" he asked, his voice somehow rougher, his accent slightly thicker, and she bit her lip, noticing his pupils widen, his breathing quicken a little.

"Maybe later," she said, putting down her glass. "Why don't you kiss me instead?"

He sat still for a moment, his eyes flicking over her, then he smiled briefly and stepped back, the scrape of his chair surprisingly loud in the tense quiet of the dining room. He walked slowly around the table, and Belle could feel her heart rate increase as he drew nearer, her breathing becoming heavier as she caught his scent, as she felt the first kiss of his warmth on her skin. He pulled out her chair, and she stood up, still breathing hard. The feel of his fingers folding gently over her shoulders made her start, and she sucked in air as he bent close, his breath tickling her ear and making her shiver.

"Would you follow me, Miss French?" he murmured, and slid his hands down her arms, one of them curling around her waist and leading her with him out of the dining room.

Belle followed him in a daze, her body suffused with desire, wetness already forming between her legs. She hoped he wouldn't make her wait too long before he touched her; she might just scream at him if so.

He led her through the lounge, opening a door to the right and ushering her inside. Belle took a long look around his bedroom. It was tastefully decorated, as with the rest of the apartment, the lighting muted and warm, the bed huge and immaculately made with dark grey cotton sheets. Belle felt him turn her slowly to face him, his hands gentle on her waist, and she laid her palms against his firm chest, looking at her fingernails, so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, and she nodded, still not looking at him. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up, and she swallowed hard as she looked deep into his eyes.

"Kiss me," she whispered, and he bent his head to hers, his lips soft and warm, his touch gentle. She moaned as his tongue parted her lips, tasting her, and he pulled her closer, his arms sliding around her. She breathed in his scent, his musk and spice and the woody scent of his cologne, and pressed herself against him, wanting to feel every bit of him. He kissed along her cheek, down her neck, his teeth sinking gently into her and making her gasp, before he trailed his lips up to her ear.

"What would you like me to do?" he asked softly, his hands sliding down over her rear and cupping it, squeezing her. "I could keep kissing you, Belle." His teeth tugged at her earlobe, making her moan. "I could peel off your clothes and lie you down on the bed and taste you, just like I did earlier today."

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, a dull throbbing between her legs. God, how she wanted him! His hands slid back up her body, thumbs slipping across her hardened nipples through the thin material of her dress, and he bit down again, bringing a groan forth from her.

"I could slip my tongue inside you," he whispered, his thumbs stroking her, fingers cupping her. "I could push my fingers right up inside you and lick you until you come, little Belle. You know I can do it." He pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes dark and hungry, his breathing ragged. "Do you want me to?" he went on, his voice almost a croon. "Do you want me to make you scream, Belle? Or do you want me to fuck you, long and slow? Whatever you want, my sweet."

Belle was almost incoherent, unable to do anything but cling to him and rub her pelvis against his. She could feel the hardness of him, the firm press of his length against her groin, and she desperately tried to wrest back control of the situation. Pulling out of his grip, she sank to her knees, unzipping his pants and reaching inside, and put her lips around his swollen cock before he could react.

Gold moaned aloud as he felt her, as the soft wetness of her mouth closed around him and her hands gripped his thighs. He had not expected that; he had wanted to drive her wild once more, just as he had that lunchtime. A tiny part of his brain considered asking her to stop, but it felt _so fucking good_ he couldn't bring himself to. His hands sank into her hair, his jaw tight with concentration as he tried to focus on keeping his cool and not coming in her mouth. He wanted to come inside her, alright, but not like this. Not the first time. She was moving back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm, and that was almost enough in itself to make him lose his mind, but then she flicked her large blue eyes upwards, the spark of mischief in them, and he almost came apart right then. He squeezed her shoulders hurriedly.

"Belle!" he said warningly, and she took the hint, letting him slip from her mouth and getting to her feet. He pulled her close, his tongue pushing into her mouth, and she clung to him, kicking off her shoes and pulling open his jacket. He cursed his stupidity in wearing cufflinks, but taking the bloody things off provided a way to slow things down a little, which was what he wanted. He placed them on the dresser, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair. She was gazing at him hungrily as he turned back, and she reached for him, pulling him close and kissing him as his fingers felt for the zipper of her dress.

"Turn around," he whispered, and she twisted obediently, offering him her back. He swept her hair to the side with a gentle hand, kissing down her neck as he pulled the zipper slowly down, the dark blue material of the dress parting to reveal her creamy skin. He shuddered with desire as he touched her, his fingers sliding over the softness of her, pushing the dress off her shoulders and down her arms, reaching around to cup her breasts through the thin lace of her bra. Her dress bunched at her waist, and he pushed it further with his hands, making it slide over her hips and hit the floor at her feet. She was revealed to him, black lace underwear clinging to her curves, and he unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

He slid his hands back down to her hips, turning her back to face him. His eyes roved over her, the taut mounds of her breasts and the deep pink of her hardened nipples, the slight curve of her belly, the gentle hint of her ribs beneath milky skin. Belle began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she did so. He let her unfasten it all the way, sliding her hands inside and over his smooth, warm skin, his jaw tightening slightly at her touch, at the feather-light brush of her fingers. She tugged at the shirt, pulling it from his shoulders, and he let it fall, drawing her against him and feeling her skin against his, his mouth finding hers in a deep, slow kiss.

Belle moaned gently as his tongue pressed into her mouth, longing for him to touch her, but keen to let him take the lead, for now. He felt incredible against her, the skin of his chest smooth and lightly tanned, his muscles small and compact. She ran her hands up his back and over his shoulders, feeling him shiver as her hands dug into the softness of his hair, and he pulled his mouth free, his breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers.

"Bed?" he asked roughly, and she nodded furiously.

"I have protection," she added, and he shook his head.

"No need. I bought some today. Go and lie down."

He let her go, and she backed away from him, turning to the bed and climbing onto it, still in her black lace panties. She lay back, propped up on her elbows, watching as he unfastened his belt and took off his pants. His limp was more pronounced without his cane, unsurprisingly, but he got to the bed without incident, crawling up beside her and taking her in his arms once more. His hand stroked slowly down her body, slipping into the hollow of her waist and then up over the smooth curve of her hip. He twisted his hand, pushing his fingertips underneath the waistband of her panties, and Belle gasped as his fingers slipped in between her legs.

Gold groaned at the feel of her. She was _soaking_, her juices coating his palm, hot and wet and slippery to the touch. It was almost too much for him, and he withdrew his hand, pulling her panties down over her hips with unseemly haste. He flicked his gaze up to meet Belle's, her eyes dark with lust, her breath coming in pants, and slid himself down the bed, pushing her legs apart and putting his mouth to her.

Belle rose up with a cry as his tongue swept through her centre, her heightened state of arousal almost at its peak. He slid his hands up her body to squeeze her breasts as he pushed his tongue inside her, drawing it out to circle her clit, then let his hands slip down over her belly and onto her inner thighs. He pushed her legs a little further apart, his tongue teasing her, slipping a forefinger inside. She ground against him, wanting more of him, wanting all of him, and he pushed another finger into her, the pad of his thumb grazing her clit, alternating with flicks of his tongue. Her fingers twisted in his hair, her hips thrusting in time with his movements, and she came with a shout, bucking against him, her entire body shaking. He groaned in appreciation, tongue swirling all around her once more, and kissed his way up her still-twitching body. She stroked his hair, wriggling in pleasure as he reached her breasts.

Gold drew a nipple into his mouth, suckling at it as his fingers stroked her gently between the legs. She was still jerking a little, little noises of pleasure coming from her, and he smiled against her skin, pleased with his work. Letting her breast slip from his mouth, he pushed himself up on his elbows, and she reached for him, her lips pushing his apart, moaning as she tasted herself on him. He slipped a finger inside her again, her flesh like wet silk.

"Oh, Belle!" he breathed. "So beautiful. Such a sweet, tight little cunt. I want you, Belle."

"Good," she murmured. "Get your pants off before I bloody explode."

He smirked, tugging off his underwear, and reached over her to pull a condom from the nightstand. She took it from him, tearing the packet and rolling it on, and the feel of her hands on his cock made him clench his jaw. He moved to lie between her legs, pressing up against her, and brushed her hair back from her face as he looked down on her. She was stunning, her sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, her lips plump and moist, the scent of her own arousal still on her mouth from his kisses. He dimly recalled the first time he had seen her, the first time she had walked into his classroom and smiled at him, and his heart had thumped a little harder in his chest. This was it, then. This was when he crossed the line and fucked a student. If this was to be his downfall, he wanted to make the most of it.

He moved his hips a little, positioning himself, and reached down between them to guide himself in. She was wonderfully tight, her flesh gripping him hard, and he groaned as he pushed up inside her, her heat scalding him.

_"__Fuck!"_ he swore, and Belle lifted her knees, allowing him deeper, until he was all the way inside her. He slid his hands back up her body to cup her face, kissing her as he began to move, his pelvis grinding against her.

"Shit!" gasped Belle. "That feels - oh, God, that's amazing! I don't think I can - _fuck!_" She moved against him, quickening the pace, and he quickly began calculating the molar mass in a random set of chemical compounds to distract himself. Her fingers dug into his spine, her head pushed back, her chest heaving. He could feel her body stiffening beneath him, her muscles tensing, and she suddenly held her breath, her hips still working against his. She broke with a cry, the tension leaving her, her walls clamping down on him hard, and Gold slowed his movements a little as she rode it out, sweat beading on her forehead and her upper lip. He flicked his tongue out to taste her salt, pushing her lips apart with his and kissing her deeply, and Belle moaned and writhed beneath him, until her tremors had passed and she let out a contented purr.

He began to move again, ridding his mind of calculations, able to concentrate on the scent and feel of _her_. She was salt and sweet honey in his mouth, the smooth softness of silk against his skin, the scent of roses and vanilla. He hadn't anticipated how incredible she would feel beneath him, how addictive. If this was what Rush had tasted, he couldn't imagine why the man would ever agree to share her. She was lifting her knees again, almost up to her chest, letting him push inside her, letting him feel every bit of her. His hands cupped her face, fingers threading through her hair, his thrusts long and slow. He was close, he could feel it. He pulled out almost all the way, sliding back inside her, hitting that sweet spot between her legs that made her gasp and let her head roll back.

"Oh, God!" she moaned, stiffening, and he smiled into her neck, breathing in the heady scent of her.

"You feel amazing!" he breathed. "You feel so good to _fuck_, my little Belle."

She whimpered, clinging to him, her nails scoring his back and making him see stars.

"Please!" she gasped, and he slowed his pace a little, enjoying her yowl of frustration.

"Please what, sweetheart?" he whispered. "Do you want to come again?"

She nodded, unable to speak, and he quickened his pace again, feeling his own climax approaching.

"God, that's so fucking good!" he gasped. "Belle, I can't hold this, I can't!"

She looked up at him, chewing her lip, her eyes bright with lust.

"Come inside me," she whispered, and he let himself fall.

He came hard, white light bursting in his head, shouting as he pulsed inside her. She reached her own climax again from the feel of it, clenching around him and pulling him in, her nails raking furrows in his shoulders that were going to make him wince later on. She was writhing beneath him, her hips bucking, little moans falling from her mouth as her movements slowed and stopped. He took a few minutes to compose himself, his face pushed into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, trying to steady his breath as he inhaled her, a thin sheen of perspiration between their bodies. Eventually, he pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at her. She was gazing up at him with drowsy eyes, a warm, satisfied grin on her face.

"That," she murmured. "Was fucking incredible, Professor Gold. Why the hell didn't we do this earlier?"

_Because I never would have thought you were interested, and I didn't want to be fired,_ he thought. Aloud he said: "Well, I suppose we have some lost time to make up."

"Mmm." She stretched languorously, her breasts rubbing deliciously against his chest. "I think my brains fell out, by the way. That's really not going to help when it comes to finals."

"Hm." He was amused. "If it's any consolation, mine blew out of the back of my skull, so I imagine the curriculum won't be too taxing from this point on."

Belle giggled, biting her lip as she looked up at him. She reached up, stroking his hair back from his face, and suddenly looked a little unsure.

"You don't regret it, do you?" she asked. "I know you think it's a risk, but I won't tell anyone, I swear. Not even Ruby. I'd never get you in trouble."

"Regret it?" He shook his head with a faint smile. "Belle, that was the single most erotic moment of my entire, miserable life. The Dean could strip me naked and run me around the football field before kicking me out permanently and I would still call this the best rule I've ever broken."

She looked pleased, kissing him, and settled back in the bed, wriggling a little to get comfortable. She shivered a little, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Cold?"

"Kind of. Sleepy, mainly."

He moved out of her slowly, standing up and limping to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he was pleased to see that she had gotten beneath the covers, and he crawled in beside her, spooning up against her back and pulling her close. Belle sighed contentedly, relaxing in his arms, and he kissed her shoulder as she drifted into sleep.

* * *

She was gone when he awoke, a scribbled note thanking him, and explaining that she had to get back before her roommate returned and started asking awkward questions. She had made him coffee, and he smiled as he sipped it, remembering the scent of her pleasure, the sweetness of her mouth, the softness of her beneath him.

He didn't usually go into the university on a Saturday, but that day he thought he'd make an exception. Passing by Dr Rush's office, he had a thought, and ducked into his own office for a yellow sticky note. Scrawling a quick line on it, he slipped back outside and stuck it on Rush's door. _Three times_, was all the note said, with his initials beneath. He smirked to himself, walking down to the lab to check his supplies for Monday's classes.

It was perhaps two hours later when he made his way back to his office, and found a note on his own door.

_Not a bad effort, _it said. _But quantity is not necessarily an indication of quality. _

Gold frowned. Arrogant little shit. It appeared he wasn't backing off. So be it.

* * *

**A/N: I've decided I'm enjoying this verse.**


End file.
